The Secrets of Dragons
by DawnRiots
Summary: Harry's returning to the magical world after two weeks at the Dursleys'. Suddenly, all he hears appears to be about dragons. Why is that? And why does he have these funny feelings? (HarryOther male)
1. Prologue: Dream Issues

**Authoress Ramble:** Hello, darlings. This is the rewritten version, so I hope you'll have patience with the rather slow writing.

**Disclaimer:** I am not JRK, nor am I trying to be. No profit is made, blah, blah, blah, blah - having fun?

**Warnings:  
THIS STORY CONTAINS MALES LOVING MALES  
- DO NOT LIKE? DO NOT READ!  
If you want to flame me, I'll have Snape answering all the flames. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to know that you didn't read the warning-label on page 1 of _Dragon's and their Blood in Potionbrewing_.**

Spoils books one through five.

* * *

**Dream Issues**

_Grey eyes widened in shock as a green light shot out from the tip of a wand. The body fell limp to the ground and a pair of red eyes turned towards him, aiming the wand at his heart -_

A boy whimpered slightly and turned, nestling under the sheets. He buried his head under his pillow as if it would keep all the memories and nightmares away. Slowly, he relaxed back into sleep and into his dreams.

_'Come on! You can do better than that!' called a familiar voice filled with maddening laughter. A man dodged a jet of red light, but the next one hit him and he stumbled. He fell for an eternity -  
Surprise was etched on his face -  
His back arched graciously -  
Then time suddenly moved too quickly. He touched the surface of something black, disappearing behind it. He should have shown up on the other side, but there was nothing. Nothing. Noth -_

'No!'

The boy woke himself by screaming into the pillow. Tears gathered in his eyes as he scrambled to his feet, rushing to the window, flinging it open so fast it hit the wall. For a moment, he hung limp like a dummy, the windowsill digging into his midriff.

It rained heavily, water turning the street into a small river, drenching his pyjamas in mere seconds. By sheer willpower alone he managed to get control of his breathing and the water on his face slowly turned from salty tears to sweet summer rain. He returned to the bed, leaning against the wall and staring unseeingly through the open window at the heavy curtains of rain swayed back and forth in the wind. A large white owl soared in through the window, her wings making small droplets of water fly across the room. She sat on his lap and nibbled his earlobe affectionately. He patted her mechanically. The darkness made them look ghostlike; her white feathers were silvery and his emerald eyes were devoid of all feelings. His cheeks where covered in hollow shadows, and his hair melted into the darkness.

A few minutes later his eyes filled with rage and the hand petting the owl had stopped. She unfolded her large wings and flew the short distance to her cage. At once the boy rose and opened the wardrobe, glaring at the mirror within. Damp black hair was lifted aside to reveal a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. _I once liked that bloody scar. Now it's only in my way._

Looking round the small room he found nothing but the owl and the reflection of himself to glare at.

'I can't even sleep anymore,' he whispered hoarsely to himself. 'Can't anything about me be normal for once?'

The owl seemed to yawn and roll her eyes at this, though it went unnoticed by the furious teenager. Grumpily he flopped down on the bed again. He stared into thin air a moment before hitting his head against the pillow.

'I killed them, didn't I? I failed to live up to that stupid hero title. Who came up with it anyway? Whoever it is, he must be daft.'

Once again he glared at the room and returned to hitting his head against the pillow, this time harder. Several thumps later he sighed and turned to face the wall, slipping into the uneasy slumber he had become used to.

_It was cold. Really cold. His body felt slim, strong, the floor scratching his belly. Hunger ravaged his veins but his Master was calling. Moving forward over the uneven floor -_

_A giant snake crept out of the shadows and whimpering noises came from behind him. He smirked and watched the two white-blond men who stood close to the wall. Glee filled him when he watched the younger one. Both of them bowed deeply._

_'We are here, Master.' said the elder of the two._

_'How nice of you to stop by, Lucius.' He wheezed back. The snake seated itself between his legs. 'Any news?'_

_'Nothing, My Lord. It seems as though Fudge has begun to listen to Dumbledore. He's harder to convince, the fool.'_

_'The only fools I know of are related to the Muggles, Lucius. But never mind we have onlookers. Enjoying yourself, _Harry_?'_

And for the second time that night, Harry Potter awoke with a start. Though this time his scar burned hot, and his eyes were filled with the sight of Draco Malfoy's perplexed face and Voldemort's laughter rung in his ear. White jolts of pain seared through his head when he fumbled for ink, quill, and parchment.

_

* * *

_

**Authoress Ramble:** Dear readers, new and old, this is a slashfiction that is currently beeing rewritten. I ask for your patience. I also wish to remind you that the fourth dungeon as well as the third floor of the southwest tower are strictly forbidden for anyone beneath third grade. Thank you.


	2. Changes Within

**Authoress Ramble:** Hello! Here's the rewritten chapter, which I absolutely love. I can't get through to my Beta, so I'll have to manage without. Anyone with a working email that wants to Beta for me?

* * *

**Changes Within**

It was Thursday and Harry lay on his bed in a small bedroom at 4 Privet Drive while gazing towards the roof. His oddly hollow green eyes were half open, hands resting under his head. If it had not been for a lightning shaped scar on his forehead, one that he carefully hid behind thick black hair, anyone would think he was just another nearly sixteen-year-old boy. Tough he had grown, he was a bit short for his age and bony. There were tired circles under Harry's eyes, his ribbons a bit too visible because he wore nothing but a pair of baggy, ugly jeans that were held up by a string of rope. He looked much like any tried teenager you'd meet one the street, but there was a slight catch. Harry was no normal boy; he was a wizard, probably one of the most powerful wizards alive – and his name was Harry Potter.

The most powerful Dark Wizard, Lord Voldemort, had killed James and Lily Potter, when Harry was only a year old. He had been the only one to ever survive the death curse and people tended to call him the Boy Who Lived. Harry thought this to be ridicules. It gave him some sort of grace to have that scar he hated and he often wished he'd just been able to grow up with his parents.

Harry had been gazing at that roof ever since he'd returned from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which was two weeks ago. He wasn't locked in, no, the window stood open and let in the glints of sun that fought its way through the clouds.

Two weeks ago, a rather pale Uncle Vernon had forced Harry down on a chair and given him a lecture. It had mostly been 'Don't use the M-word', 'Don't do anything abnormal' before the bomb fell. Harry knew that officially he attended to St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, but after a Dementor had attacked Dudley, his cousin, they had told everyone they knew that Harry had knifed a roommate.

'I did _what_?' Harry had shouted, making an opening for one of the nastiest fights ever.

It had ended when Uncle Vernon, spitting with rage, had backhanded Harry across the face. Harry had stared icily at the man, spitted on the carpet and turned on his heel. He hadn't written to his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger about it. It was his private war.

He had barely left the bed since. Right now he was listening to the sounds of the new neighbours housewarming party, they seemed to be moving in and out of the house depending on the lurking sun. Aunt Petunia was of course also out there, pretending to be hedge trimming. She was a blonde woman who looked like a horse starved to death that had turned into a woman used to drink vinegar as water.

There were steps coming up the stairs and he forced himself to relax. His bedroom door opened and a man reminding very much of an overgrown pig stepped inside. His small eyes were peering at Harry, who silently was wondering if his Uncle needed glasses or if he was trying to look evil.

'Get up!' The man snorted, his large moustache moving like a dying flobberworm. 'There's food for you in the kitchen, eat quickly. Petunia wants you to finish off the hedge.'

'Make Dudley do it,' said Harry tonelessly.

'Don't you start, I'm warning you. Dudley's picking up his _girlfriend_, as you well should know since I told you they'll be here for tea at four o'clock. Now _go_.'

Sighing, Harry left the peace of his room and went to the kitchen downstairs. By the look of it, this would not be a pleasant dinner for him. Two pieces of bread lay beside the sink and they tasted as dry as they looked. Harry was chewing dully when Dudley and his girlfriend Cleona Owen walked into the kitchen. Dudley still looked as a fat, blond plump, even though he had actually lost three stones (something Petunia had rewarded with a pound of sweets).

Cleona Owen was another story. She had large brown eyes, thick brown hair and a small nose in a flabby face. Rather often she wore expensive and brightly coloured fashion clothes and about as often they didn't fit her at all. The relationship was simple, Cleona asked Dudley for things, he hit someone until he got them and in turn she accepted to play his girlfriend. They had been "going out" for exactly thirteen days.

'Hello, Harry,' said Cleona in a sickly sweet voice.

Harry ignored her and tried to chew faster.

'He doesn't speak,' Dudley sneered, 'not after you-know what.'

He chewed even faster. What Dudley had said was partly true. Harry had rarely spoken after the huge fight, though Dudley had made this into that he didn't spoke after the knifing. Harry swallowed hard. Suddenly he got the feeling of being strangled and disappeared into the garden where he spat out the bread and breathed deeply. It had happened once before, only a few hours ago. His body hurt, tears struggled behind his eyelids and he had to gasp for air. Harry wasn't sure what was going on, it was scary, like drowning on dry land. He hadn't felt much at all for two weeks, and now this. Rain fell upon his back, the wet grass chilly under his bare feet. The party-people moved inside.

'Get a sweater on!' snorted Petunia from the back door.

She threw something at him and he started when the sweater hit his back. Immediately he straightened, breathed deeply and picked up the shears, ignoring the sweater that had fell to the ground. It was one of all those changes that he had noticed during the two weeks.

He had annoyed his Aunt and Uncle by not caring about their rules. He didn't speak about magic nor did he do any magic, but he never cared about what the neighbours would think. It didn't bother him. The air of stubbornness around him had increased. If his relatives told him he was not to do something, he thought it at least worth to try. Nothing really bothered him anymore, not after he'd lost Sirius. There was nothing, he thought, that could live up to that pain. Not that he felt any pain. He refused to feel it. He refused to be weak, to feel, to cry. It wouldn't bring him Sirius back; it would only make his failure greater.

A wry smile played on his lips when he thought of what the Potions Master, greasy-haired Professor Snape, would have said when he noticed that Harry could do what he'd asked. The Professor had been teaching Harry Occlumency, the art of closing ones mind against magical influence, and during those lessons Snape had always told him to rid himself of thought and emotion.

Harry was nearly finished when he stretched and noticed two dark plumps there in the gloomy sky. He stared intensely, watching how one of them moved much faster than the other. It dropped a newspaper in front of Harry's feet and Harry frowned when he picked it up. He'd already gotten the _Daily Prophet _and he didn't have any other papers delivered. The words _Witch Weekly_ stared up at him from the front page that held such titles as _Cleaning Spells – a fresh and clean home for Your family_ and _Lazy or Romantic, What kind of husband is Yours?_

Just when he had tucked it in the back of his jeans the other owl practically fell to the ground. Harry sighed when he recognized the Weasley family owl Errol. The old grey owl was unconscious. Harry held him carefully when he took the sweater from the ground and swept it around Errol.

He sneaked inside, soundlessly walking up to his room where he laid Errol in Hedwig's cage. The large snowy owl was out delivering a letter. Harry retrieved the letter tied to Errol's leg and briefly wondered why Ron would use Errol and not Pigwidgeon, his miniature maniac to owl.

_Thanks, that solves it. I'll be picking it up by Friday morning at eight._

_- A._

Harry frowned. He assumed it was time for him to pack – yet again. Though he didn't know why, he had the funny feeling that something important had happened. Or, that something was going to happen, at the very least. Harry didn't know what solved what, nor what Mr Weasley meant, but the sooner he could get away from the Dursleys' the better.

He sat down on the windowsill, one leg outside, water dripping from his hair over his torso. He tried to smile, but the smile withered away, he tried to feel the joy he thought he was supposed to feel, but there was none. Vague sounds of the front door closing carried through the floor and he assumed the tea party was over. Outside the neighbours had decided to move their party outside again and he could see them laughing, smiling, and everything felt false.

He had lost track of time when Petunia came in through the door. Right now she wore a white blouse with a lace collar and a blue skirt. She was frowning.

'There's mud stains in the floor,' said Petunia in her shrill voice. 'Go clean them up.'

'No,' said Harry very quietly.

'What? Yes, you will, you lazy hang-about! You've gotten mud on my – there's mud on the tapestry! Get away form the window!'

She actually looked frightening, where she stood with her hands on her hips. Harry didn't see that, though, he was still looking out the window. It rained in a spluttering sort of way.

'No,' he said once again, 'you will be cleaning your own floor. I'll be leaving tomorrow at eight.'

At first, Petunia was too angry with him to notice the last few words, but then she did and her hand, that had been lift to slap him, suddenly fell.

'You're leaving?' she repeated.

'Please close the door when you leave,' Harry added.

* * *

He had cleaned out all his belongings from the drawers, wardrobe, various hiding places behind Dudley's broken toys and the loose floorboard. Dudley's baggy hand-me-downs were in a pile by the door; Harry didn't want them with him. Harry's trunk was packed full and he held his broom for a while before unpacking his Invisibility Cloak. He wrapped the Cloak around the broom and tied it to the lid of the trunk.

Then he lay down on the bed, staring at the roof once again. Slowly, the numbers of his watch turned. He breathed. The room was quiet; the rest of the world seemed to have lost the ability to sound. It was only evening and the sun set slowly, darkness spreading its web over the earth. Harry could feel it swallow him and it made him smile. Once he had feared the dark, now he let it spread through his body. It wasn't like anything he had felt before; it was cold and silky darkness that sometimes made him shiver, sometimes lulled him to sleep.

When he woke in the middle of the night he was panting, screaming into the pillow. He bolted for the window, where he hung out, trying to calm down. Sobbing broke ragged breaths. He saw tears fall down on the ground, wetting the already too wet lawn. Harry willed them back; they wouldn't help him get Sirius back. Tears were stupid. Drying them away he sat down on the bed and tried to read the copy of _Witch Weekly_.

He couldn't understand why he'd gotten the copy or from who. It held nothing he didn't know. The only news he'd gotten from _The Daily Prophet_ had all been about that Bertha Jorkins had still not been found. The _Witch Weekly _told about the wife of John Jesterweb, a tourist guide whose group along with himself, had disappeared in the Sahara Desert. The Ministry had put three Searching Witches on the cases. They had not been able to locate anyone but a referee from a German Quidditchgame between Wild Vienna (commonly known as 'Whining Vienna') and Berlin's Burning Bludgers. The referee had been confused but clearly remembered being hexed by the Captain of Whining Vienna five years ago.

But the article failed to take Harry's mind off the dreams. Every night he feared for the dreams to return and leave him exhausted and shaking. If it hadn't been a cloudless night he'd have mounted his Firebolt and soared through the night until the dawn forced him back to the ground. He had done that very often during the cloudy nights. It kept the dreams away and even if he was frozen to the bone he thought it a fair payment.

The wind made his curtains bellow. Harry stared unseeingly at the magazine when a petite owl bounced in and got lost inside them. He sighed, untangled the owl and tried to retrieve the letter while it twittered madly. Pigwidgeon then proceeded to soar through the room while Harry red Ron's note.

_Hi, Harry!_

_Did you hear about Whining Vienna? Scandal of the year!  
Good it wasn't the Cannons. _

_Fred and George sent you a message, they say, and they  
want to know if it got through. They wont tell me what  
and when I tried to ask them they turned my hair blue.  
They're ported from the Burrow until Mum stops seething. _

_Hermione left for Greece today, she says she'll be back  
in a couple of weeks. Bet you she's doing research on  
something boring and that she's rewriting her homework -  
again! That's the only thing she's been talking about, that  
and our OWL:s. Dad reckons the results should be owled  
any day now._

_Best,  
Ron  
_

Harry scribbled an answer on the back of the note, tied it to Pig's leg and watched the owl flap its wings so fast it appeared to bounce through the air. Pig disappeared into the night again and Harry sat on the windowsill. He waited.

The dawn came and with it the light that perked through the clouds. Harry rubbed his tired eyes; he had been unable to sleep and had stayed on the windowsill all night. He dragged his heavy trunk downstairs, got yelled at by Dudley for making too much noise, placed it by the door and set for the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was already in there, preparing a huge steak. Harry sneezed when she managed to spray pepper all over him.

'When do you leave?' asked Petunia shortly.

'At eight,' said Harry. 'What's for breakfast?'

'At the sink.' She sniffed. 'How wonderful, my little Duddikins' second week anniversary. It's true love.'

Harry bit his piece of grapefruit to avoid snickering. He hurried back to his trunk when his Aunt looked like spending two hours telling him all about her little Duddikins' adventures at school and how proud she was over his grades. Not that the grades were anything to be proud of. Harry bet Dudley hadn't done more then merely passed by threatening a teacher.

It was quite a beautiful morning, Harry noted when he stood on the pavement. Errol was still sleeping in Hedwig's cage and Hedwig herself had still not returned. For a brief moment Harry wondered what kept her, but then he spotted a tall man walking against him. Mr Weasley beamed at him, his thin red hair was a bit thinner and he too looked tired. He wore a pair of jeans and a green trench coat.

'Hello Harry,' he greeted. 'Oh, there's Errol, I was wondering. Now if I just -'

Arthur began digging in the trench coat's pockets and pulled out two batteries and a plug before finding a small note. He then twisted the note back and forth for a while before beaming.

'This way,' he said happily, lifting the owl cage.

Harry dragged his trunk along the pavement. Mr Weasley twisted and turned the note every now and then while they walked. They had walked a couple of streets before Harry noticed they were heading for Mrs Figg's house. He frowned. The old lady was a Squib, but he hadn't seen her for a week. Mr Weasley bent and studied the alarm with such intensity that Harry reached past him to ring the doorbell.

It didn't take long before a small grey haired woman opened the door with a cat in her arms. She had the kind of scratches around her nose that you get from blowing your nose repeatedly.

'Mrs Figg, how wonderful –' Arthur began.

'Arabella. Gedd in all ready,' said Mrs Figg thickly and sneezed loudly. 'I've godd a cold, I cannd stay here foreveh.'

They entered the house and Harry pulled his trunk after him. He didn't quite understand why he was here, but he trusted Mr Weasley to have a reason. He saw three cats on various places before they came to the kitchen. It looked like a bomb had detonated in there and smelled distinctly of cats and cat food.

'I haven't cleaned,' Mrs Figg said blowing her nose hard, 'bloody cold, I tell you.'

'We wont be long,' Mr Weasley assured her, 'let me' – he dug his pockets – 'oh, there' – he pulled out his wand and waved it the fireplace to lit a fire – 'now I'll just get this right' – he gave the air a jab – 'that's it. Now we wait.'

'What are we –'

Mrs Figg sneezed so hard that she lifted from the chair.

'Wait for the purple flame. You're going to Floo to the Shrieking Shack. Molly and the boys will – Goodness, Arabella, you want me to cure that cold?'

'No, no, I'll be fine,' Mrs Figg mumbled into her napkin.

'But my trunk?' asked Harry.

Things seemed to have sped up and he wasn't really sure what was going on. The words Shrieking Shack had stuck, though.

'I'll take care of it – there it is! Here's your powder. Go! Go! Take Errol.'

Mr Weasley shuffled Harry to the fire where a purple flame danced in the middle. Harry took hold of the cage, threw in the powder and shouted 'The Shrieking Shack!' before whirling out of sight. The last thing that he saw was Mrs Figg sneezing and then his head spun so much he had to close his eyes.

* * *

'Oil! Mum! He's here!'

Something red with spots came into Harry's sight. He had dropped his glasses and after a minute he realized it was Fred (or George, for that matter). As the Weasley twin handed him his glasses and he got them on, Mrs Weasley had entered the kitchen. Well, what had once been the kitchen. It was now not more than a dusty room, windows shattered behind the thick boards and broken furniture. A thin layer of soot covered the kitchen, himself and the twin. Mrs Weasley hugged him tightly.

'Oh, Harry dear! You didn't hurt yourself too bad, I hope? I wanted Ron to clean that chimney up, but the roof would never had held him and I'm not especially good with those spells. Ron! Where are you? George!'

'I'm here,' the twin near the fire sighed.

'I'm sorry, George. Fred!'

Two other red haired boys entering the room. One of them was his best friend Ron and the other Fred, who grinned along with his twin. They looked as impish as ever and George kept stealing glances at Ron.

'Harry! Right out of the chimney. See Father Christmas?' Fred said.

'Nah,' Harry answered, 'but I think there's a nest of pixies up there.'

'Pixies in a chimney?' said Ron.

The red hair stood straight up and the freckles were glowing slightly. He'd grown less than an inch and Harry hoped that it was a sign of that Ron had stopped growing. He didn't need more length, he was already towering over the twins and his father.

'Did he get there?' asked Mr Weasley's voice from the fire. 'There you are. I'll be late, Molly, so don't wait up.'

He disappeared before Mrs Weasley could make a sound and she huffed something that sounded like 'I'll be up, you just wait'. Her plump, friendly face was filed with wrinkles and she'd lost some weight. The twins were whispering and they both were glancing at Ron whose freckles were glowing even more. Harry though he saw a lightly purple shade in Ron's hair, but wasn't sure.

'Why're we here?' Harry asked when the greeting had ended.

'We're more or less gathering you to one piece,' George answered. 'We're going to Spinners End now –'

'The what?' asked Harry.

'The Spinners End, it's Moody's house. Some of us thought' – he sent his mother an icy glare – 'that it'd be better to greet you here then a place closer.'

'This is Order business, boys. You're not in the Order,' Mrs Weasley responded to the glare.

'Oh, Mum, shut it. George and me have a fully well running shop at the Diagon Alley, why wouldn't we be in? We are of age and out of school, and...'

'Because you're _children_' Mrs Weasley snapped, 'and don't talk to me like that!'

'Mum, we're not children. We're of age, you know...' George tried to say.

'You're _my_ children. You sound like children and you're _not_ going to be in the Order yet. That's the end of it, I told you that you could only come if you wouldn't – _don't you dare_, Fred!'

Harry looked around and came to think of someone that was missing.

'Where's Ginny?' he asked, thinking about the youngest Weasley.

'She's at the Spinners End, too dangerous to be out here,' sighed Mrs Weasley. 'I think we should get going now, or she'll burn our dinner. Albus' coming to eat with us, he'll surely like to explain things for you. I must get a pumpkin pie ready for him. Poor man haven't had time to eat properly.'

Harry followed everyone else outside and found he was staring at one of the flying cars from the Ministry of Magic with Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt and an unknown, very thin woman inside it. The woman had dark hair with peculiar orange spots that looked much like orange milk had exploded in her face. Her nose stuck out, somewhat reminding of a carrot.

About fifteen other wizards and witches were also there. Harry saw a tall, dark wizard that peered over the shoulder of a witch in a purple hat who was chatting with another witch in a yellow cloak. A witch with bubblegum pink hair winked at him from where she was tying his trunk to her broom.

'Wotcher, Harry!' she said.

'Hi Tonks,' Harry answered. 'What –'

'They were gan rage and started throwin' bricks at us, like eh!' The unknown woman in the car cut him off, apparently telling a story that requested a loud voice and lots of hand gestures.

'Harry!' barked Mad-Eye. 'How are you?'

'I'm fine, thanks,' said Harry a bit uncertainly since Moody were looking at him through the back of his head.

'And I must've punched one of them ower, see,' the lady said, seemingly unaware of Harry's presence.

'Don't do that, Dawn. You know he's here,' said Moody with a glare at the woman before turning to face Harry. 'Still got your wand in your pocket?'

'Err – yes' Harry said.

'It's your buttocks,' muttered Moody and rose. 'Get over here and quit blabbering.'

The witches and wizards drifted closer. A black haired wizard muttered something to the witch in a yellow cloak and she nodded. They were watching Harry closely and he wished they wouldn't.

'What happened with your freckles, Ron?' Tonks asked suddenly.

Ron looked appealed and tried to watch his clearly glowing freckles. The twins were shaking with laughter where they stood by a bandy-legged man with straggly, ginger hair. Harry recognized him as Mundungus Fletcher.

'George!' Ron cried. 'You little – OUCH!'

Dawn had turned and rapped her wand over his nose. The freckles quit glowing but Ron now nurtured a nosebleed. When Harry met Dawn's eyes, he shuddered. There was no colour in there.

'Harry Potter, I hear,' she said, stretching her hand a bit left of him. 'Me name's Dawn Atkinson.'

'Nice to meet you, Mrs Atkinson', said Harry politely. Her colourless eyes were making him very nervous.

'It's Miss Atkinson, but say Dawn. That's i' then. Let's trot along, we'll be late fur dinner if we don't speed up a bit.'

Moody stepped up in front of them and cleared his throat.

'Right, you all know what to do. Go down over Cannich, switch and Apparate to Dalchreichart. The others will come up and fly us there, you'll come back up and we'll go the rest of the way. It'll be rough.' He turned to Harry. 'You're in the middle. Climb in. If everything fails, stick to the ground and keep quiet. We'll find you.'

Harry climbed into the back seat of the car, George to his right and Ron to his left. Mrs Weasley sat next to Fred, who was driving. The car started and they waited for Mrs Weasley to find her belt beneath the cage with Errol.

'Wands out!' shrieked the witch in a purple hat and there was flutter when nearly twenty wands were drawn, pointed and rapped. The guards disappeared.

'Mount your brooms!' yelled a male voice.

'On the signal!' shouted a witch.

They waited and then –

'Up!' Moody barked.

The car lifted, soaring up through the sky. Harry sat shocked in the middle. Everything sounded like one of Dudley's movies about the Second World War. All around them flew witches and wizards, their faces determined and wands held tightly in their hands. George passed a piece of what looked like the counter end of a Nosebleed Nougat to Ron, who swallowed it thankfully.

'Wow,' Harry breathed.

'Yeah, Moody's trained us for a week now,' nodded Ron. 'He's done all sorts of tests to make sure Fred, George and me would make it.'

'Constant vigilance!' barked George sounding much like Mad-Eye before sniggering.

'I couldn't stop puking when he made that diving-thing,' said Ron.

Harry saw the twins' exchange and had a shrewd idea about why Ron hadn't been able to stop throwing up. It included a Puking Pastille.

'Wont the Muggles see us?' Harry asked. 'I mean, the Disillusionment Charm wont over the brooms and the car.'

'Some sort of a bubble-charm, they wont tell us. The Disillusion Charm's not needed at this height,' explained George.

The three Weasley children glared at their mother, who ignored them. The witch in a purple hat soared past, switching places with a wizard.

'Who are all these people?' Harry asked. 'They weren't this many last year.'

'Just some Order members,' shrugged Fred. 'There's Hilda Harning in that purple hat and Tonks to the left –'

'Emmeline Vance and her son Alexander's above us,' said Mrs Weasley, 'and here goes Kingsley –'

'I see Dawn and Lellwyn Whorn beneath us,' reported George.

'Horatio's to the left and – oh, there's Nick and Agda, that's her in the yellow cloak, they're such a sweet couple,' pointed Molly.

'Moody's up front with Hildur and Will Cauldron,' said Ron, 'look, there's Chrissie and Math and – Mum, what's Charlie doing here?'

'Charlie?' Mrs Weasley's neck cracked. 'Oh, dear, I wonder that too, Ron.'

The journey went peacefully, except for the loop that Fred had to try, which caused a long speech from a slightly green-faced Molly. Harry gazed out the car's window, his eyes following the guards that soared through the air. Every now and then one of them would do a dive to peer through the window. Though still very confused, he was looking forward to spend the rest of the summer with the Weasleys, whom he counted as his family.

'Hey, Harry! Take a look at Dawn!' Fred called. 'She's cool. Has a great head for Potions, you know.'

'You can have a head for Potions?' Harry asked wryly. 'That's her in the flowered dress, right?'

'Yeah, she's helped Fred and me with out Lavender Pastilles. Gave us a lecture about lavender and aniseed,' said George. 'It's not really working yet, though.'

'She's nearly completely colour blind, you know,' said Ron. 'Sees only green and red according to Mad-Eye. You should hear her talk with an accent.'

Ron shivered.

''S not a dead barie recipe, bu' A think i' cu'd've been worse,' said George in a slow voice. 'The accents kind of okay once you've gone used to it.'

Mrs Weasley pressed her lips together but said nothing. Harry found his mind wandering again, from this Dawn to Quidditch to things he didn't want to think about. They turned sharp left and the guards were suddenly twice as many before half of them went down. Harry assumed they'd passed Cannich because now they were heading more east. Moody was up front again, apparently determined to not rest and Tonks beneath him seemed to be yelling at the top of her lungs. She disappeared into a cloud and Harry assumed she'd gone down too.

'... wish I could do a save like that', Ron was saying, apparently talking about Quidditch. 'He just flew so wonderfully.'

'Oh, come on', George responded. 'You sound like Charlie.'

'Am not!'

'Are too!'

'Boys…' Mrs Weasley sighed.

'Well... Wood's one hell of a Keeper, you've got to admit that.'

'Yeah, but I don't fall in love with him for that.'

'No, I can tell. You've got your head to filled up with Luna Lovegood, haven't you?'

George blushed furiously and his freckles seemed to glow worse than Ron had an hour ago. Molly shot him a look that suggested a long talk about the birds and the bees. George carefully avoided it.

'Thanks,' he muttered to Ron.

'Luna?' Harry asked astonished. 'Luna Lovegood?'

He was thinking of the girl from Ravenclaw who had dreamy eyes and dirty, waist long, blonde hair. Harry seriously doubted that she ever thought of washing it. Luna was somewhat dreamy in every state of thought, she always stepped into rooms looking totally disoriented. On the other hand, she was very clever, like Hermione.

'Yep!' said Ron, snatching Harry out of his thoughts, turning towards him, his back against George. 'The same-old Luna. They've had three dates so far.'

'Shut up!' wheezed George, still glowing. 'I'll turn your hair back blue!'

'I'm quiet.' Ron was smiling meaningfully at Harry, his eye's glittering with laughter.

Some time later Harry had just asked about the twins joke shop when suddenly the sky was lit up by fifteen wands shooting stars. Among them Harry saw a streak of gold.

'That's the signal,' yelled George. 'Dive!'

Fred dived. The car dived. Mrs Weasley almost vomited. They landed in front of a stone building with two floors, two chimneys and Ginny Weasley on the porch. She was beaming, her flaming read hair flying in the wind. A second later five guards landed on the ground, among them Moody, Dawn and Tonks.

'The bubble,' Tonks panted and undid Harry's trunk. 'Nothing to worry about. Muggles'll think someone was shooting fireworks. Here's your trunk, Harry. Get in, get in. Up!'

With that Tonks and the two other guards soared back into the cloudy sky. Harry breathed deeply. Suddenly he felt really, really tired. One of the twins, Harry couldn't tell which, levitated his trunk up the stairs. He managed to get through the door to the little room and turned his head when Ron spoke.

'Mum put me with the twins,' said Ron, 'Merlin knows why.'

Harry barely nodded. His feet ached, his body felt ever so heavy, he was so tired.

'You look tired. Go have a lie down,' said Fred. 'We'll make Ron wake you up to dinner.'

Again, Harry only managed a slow nod. He stepped into the room, was vaguely aware of his trunk floating in and the door closing. There were two beds… bed… what a wonderful idea…

Already snoring Harry fell upon the closest bed and was fast asleep.

* * *

**Remember to Review!**


	3. Worse Then Nightmares

**Authoress Ramble**: Well, as you see I'm back. Not that you care. Cahpter 1 (Changes Within) has been rewritten on the 31st of March. Feel free to reread it.

* * *

**Worse Than Nightmares**

'Harry! Harry, wake up, mate!'

Ron's voice echoed through Harry's mind, slipping away like oil on water. His eyes fluttered open, but he shut them again. The light hurt. His body hurt. He wanted darkness, cool and blissful. With a groan Harry turned against the wall.

'Come on, mate, Mum says the dinner's ready,' said Ron from somewhere above and behind.

Harry couldn't find the strength to open his mouth, less so speak. He stared unseeingly at the brown wall. His eyelids were heavy with sleep and every bone in his body had somehow turned into rock while he slept. Two weeks worth of tiredness had kicked in.

After a while Ron left the room and Harry felt relieved. As much as he liked his best friend, he just wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep and sleep and maybe then the pain would go away. Harry heard the vague noises of the Weasleys' dinner, but wasn't really all that bothered.

At some point he had crawled in between the sheets and could now smell a faint vanilla on them. It was familiar and he felt safe. The brown wall smelled of old paint and dust, like the room had not been used for very long. He thought he should be curious and turn around to explore the room, but there was no strength within him. His eyes closed and once again, Harry Potter slept.

When he came to the next time, there was a plate with spaghetti and meatballs placed only inches from his nose. He assumed it had a permanent Warming Charm, because the house was at peace, someone snored in the other bed and the moonlight spilled over the floor. Now Harry could see that the beds were placed on each side of the room, his trunk hidden under the desk beneath the window. From where he lay he could see another desk squeezed in between the wall and the foot of the other bed.

Slowly Harry dragged himself into sitting position and reached for the plate. His hands shook visibly when he stabled the plate against his knees and leaned against the headboard. It felt like even those small movements had exhausted him and he just sat there for a while before slowly beginning to eat. Quite the opposite of what he had thought, he was actually hungry. It didn't take long for him to empty the plate and when finished he sighed.

The person in the other bed mumbled and shifted. The moonlight fell upon the features of Charlie Weasley who snored loudly before turning away again. Harry wondered why Charlie would be in England when he ought been working for a Dragon Centre in Romania, but then he yawned. He sat the plate back on the desk and crept back under the quilt.

Sirius fell and fell and fell – Cedric's eyes stared at him unseeingly - and fell and he couldn't stop it – 

Harry woke up screaming, shivering with the coldness that surrounded him, ate him from the inside out. There was noise and movement and then he found that arms wrapped themselves around him, trapping him. He fought against them, trying to breath and stop crying but whoever was holding him wouldn't let go. Harry was trapped; trapped within those arms, trapped within him self. He wanted it to end and it seemed to go on forever.

He gasped hysterically for air, feeling it go down his lungs but not finding any oxygen within it. Suddenly his head was pushed down, over the edge of the bed. The air was cooler near the floor and he swallowed as if he'd never breathed before. He retched and vomited until there was nothing left inside him.

The world began coming into focus again just in time for him to see Mrs Weasley bursting in through the door, clutching her dressing gown with one hand, wand in the other. Behind her he saw Ron and one of the twins, all of them looking worried. When he sat up he found Charlie sitting on his bed.

'Better?' asked Charlie, smiling.

Harry nodded and dried his mouth in the napkin that Charlie offered. He still shivered slightly.

'Sorry I woke you up,' he said weakly. 'I didn't mean to –'

'Don't be sorry, dear,' said Mrs Weasley, waving her wand to get rid of the vomit. 'Do you want anything? Tea? Water?'

'No, thank you.' Harry shook his head. 'I'll just go back to sleep.'

'Are you sure?' She frowned.

'Yes, I'll just … I'm sorry …' he tried.

'Oh, don't be dear, you absolutely sure you're fine now?'

Harry felt a bit pleased that she cared so much and offered her a faint smile. The light spilled in through the door, making the four Weasleys' hair look like on fire. Ron was mouthing something and Harry shook his head slightly; he knew Ron wondered if it had been a vision about Voldemort. Fred looked like a worried zombie, asleep on his feet.

'I'll be here, Mum,' Charlie said, 'I'll take care of it if it happens again.'

'I can –' Ron begun.

'I'm fine,' said Harry sternly. 'I had a nightmare, that's all.'

'Well…' Mrs Weasley looked doubtful. 'All right then, you're here, Charlie, so sleep well.'

'What's the matter?' asked Ginny sleepily, appearing behind her mother. 'I thought I heard someone screaming.'

'Just Harry having nightmares, dear,' her mother said while closing the door. 'Nothing to worry about.'

Charlie walked over to his own bed and Harry lay down on his back. He hadn't expected the dreams to return so soon, but then again he hadn't had time to do any expecting. He let his head fall to the left and stared out into the dark room. Charlie's breaths soon slowed down and he begun snoring slightly.

Harry staid awake for a long time before sighing and slipping into the dreamless slumber.

* * *

The morning didn't seek out the Borrow in a quiet manner. What awoke Harry was someone screaming at the top of her lungs and for a second Harry panicked before he could extinguish the words.

' – THIRD TIME THIS WEEK! OUT! BOTH OF YOU! GET _OUT_!'

Harry, who had bolted up, growled and slumped back onto the bed. He did so not want to know what who had done but it didn't take long before Ron practically fell through the door, sniggering. His striped pyjama was way too short and his hair stood straight up.

'You have to hear this,' the red head said panting, 'Mum found Puking Pastilles in the scones for the third time –'

'I don't think he could miss that,' said Charlie and sat up, rubbing his eyes. 'I bet you anything she's in quite a state. Be clever and avoid the kitchen for a while.'

'But I'm starving!' whined Ron.

'There's some chocolate in my trunk,' Harry said.

Charlie rose out of the bed, wearing only the pyjamas bottom. He was shorter than the twins and broad shouldered, the freckles spread all over his body, making it look tanned. Ron attacked the trunk in a leap worthy of Hermione's cat Crookshanks. Harry sighed. Some things never changed.

'Never mind to ask.'

'Swojy gjumid?'

'Too late for that, isn't it?' said Charlie. 'Mum wont be happy if she catches you eating candy before breakfast, Ron.'

Ron swallowed hard and not a bit too early; the next second Mrs Weasley burst into the room, a frown on her face. She wore an old apron and her hair seemed to be cracking. Harry and Charlie followed Ron's example.

'You lot not dressed yet?' she snapped before her eyes narrowed. 'Is that a chocolate stain, Ron?'

'From yesterday,' Ron said haughtily.

His mother snorted but refrained from further comments.

'Feeling better, Harry?' she asked and Harry nodded. 'Well, get down to breakfast then.'

With that Mrs Weasley swept out of there, Ron in her tail. Harry stood and searched the now open trunk for clothes while Charlie rummaged the large wardrobe at the foot of Harry's bed.

All dressed they soon left for the kitchen, finding Mrs Weasley still muttering to herself. It was an old kitchen with a wood stove. Ginny sat at the table; her nose stuck in the _Daily Prophet_, barely noticing what she was eating. She wore a t-shirt and jeans and her red hair hung in a plait down her back.

'Hi, Harry,' she said, looking up. 'Had anymore nightmares?'

'No. Sorry that I woke you up,' Harry mumbled.

'Never mind,' said Ginny and returned to the newspaper.

Harry reached for the toast, but there was a lurch in his stomach and he withdrew his hand. Ron gave him an odd look before attacking the pile of toasts. Harry stuck to the pumpkin juice. Ginny turned the page and Mrs Weasley kept muttering things.

'Anything new in there?' Ron asked between bites.

'Nothing,' Ginny sighed.

The room swaying slowly before Harry's eyes and he pressed his fingertips against them. The twins Apparated into the kitchen and their mother pointedly turned her back at them. This wasn't her week at all, Harry decided.

'Nice lungs you got, Harry. How're you feeling?' asked George.

'A bit dizzy.'

'Better eat something, you've lost weight,' said Ron.

At that, Mrs Weasley turned sharply and watched Harry before grabbing a plate and filling it with food. Harry sighed when she nearly smashed the plate down in front of him.

'You're not moving before you've eaten that,' she snapped. 'George, take your brother out of here. I told you the two of you aren't welcome here.'

'But I'm starving, Mum,' Fred tried.

'Out.'

George snatched Ron's plate and the twins Disapparated. Harry sighed and begun chewing himself through the pile of toast. He was half way through when he saw Ginny glare at Ron and rub her shin. Ron nodded towards the doorway and she glared some more.

'Thanks, Mum,' Ron said cheerfully, grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of there.

They headed for Ron's room where the twins lay sprawled over Ron's bed, plate between them. George smiled impishly, saluting them with a piece of toast in his hand. Fred feigned a bow.

'Thank you, good sir, for giving us this room and something to eat,' he said grinning.

'Shut up. Next time, take Harry's plate, he's not eating it anyhow. Move your feet, George, or I'll sit on them.'

A large poster had been pinned up above Ron's bed. It was orange and had a moving picture of Ron's favourite Quidditch team the Chudley Cannons. On the other side of the room was a bunk bed that obviously was occupied by the twins. Harry moved some comic books and sat down on the only chair in the room. Pigwidgeon was twittering madly and zoomed around Ron's head.

'Ginny coming?' George asked.

'If Mum doesn't make her look for Nosebleed Nougat, or something.'

'That reminds me. Watch out for anything Mum may bake.'

'I'd forgotten that,' Fred admitted. 'We shouldn't have done that.'

'Maybe not. Too late now, huh?'

'Regret? That's something new,' said Ginny who had stepped in through the door. 'Getting soft on older days?'

'Not really,' George grinned, 'I just don't want to miss dinner as well.'

'Ah, purely egoistic reasons, you should've been Slytherins. So, gonna tell him?'

The twins pretended to be deeply affronted, but Harry frowned. Ginny climbed to the top bed.

'Tell me what?' he asked.

'About Hogwarts! Someone caught Dumbledore speaking about dragons. There's so much rumours that Rita Skeeter wouldn't be able to keep up.'

'If she's not creating them,' Ron added bitterly. 'She's been selling a lot of stories to the _Witch Weekly_.'

'You sent me the magazine?' Harry asked. 'What for?'

'What magazine?' Fred asked, digging his pocket. 'We sent you something, but it shouldn't arrive yet.'

'I got an exemplar of _Witch Weekly_ last Thursday,' Harry explained. 'Right before Errol arrived.'

'Not us,' said the twins in chorus.

'I haven't sent anything,' said Ginny, frowning.

'Me neither,' agreed Ron. 'There wasn't a note?'

'Of course there wasn't, Ronnie,' George sighed, 'he'd have known who it was from then.'

'Didn't I tell you to shut up a while ago?'

'That was Fred. Pay some attention and you'll be able tell us apart one of these days.'

Ron breathed deeply and opened his mouth.

'You were going to tell me something,' Harry interrupted.

'Oh, yes, dragons,' Fred grinned. 'As Ginny said, someone caught Dumbledore mentioning them –'

'And Hogwarts in the same breath,' George finished.

'Someone?' Ron scowled.

'It might have been Lee, but we wouldn't know, would we, George?'

''Course not! What are we, gossipers?'

'Cut it off, both of you,' Ginny said. 'So, dragons and Hogwarts. Could you hide a dragon on the Forbidden Forrest?'

'Uh – think so,' Harry said. 'No, I'm sure you could.'

He thought of Grawp, Hagrid's half-brother. The giant had been hiding in the Forrest for weeks before Harry and Hermione found out and as far as Harry was concerned, you could well hide a dragon in there. Then something struck him.

'It's not Norbert, right?' he asked.

'Hope not,' said Ron, swallowing. 'Getting him out of the castle once was awful, thank you very much.'

'Did I miss something?' Ginny frowned. 'When did you smuggle a dragon out from Hogwarts?'

'First year.' Ron shrugged. 'Hagrid tried to raise a dragon but we got him sent off with some dragon tamers to Romania. I really, really hope Charlie didn't bring him back. Add the Hungarian Horntail that tried to eat Harry two years ago. I've had enough of dragons for a lifetime, I tell you.'

Suddenly the room was too small for all the people in there. Harry tried to breath deeply, but exactly as before, there was no oxygen in his lungs. He began breathing faster and faster still, feeling the world spin around him to brutally stop when Ginny was pushing his head down between his knees. It was as if he'd been travelling fifty miles an hour and crashed into a fence. Sweat broke out on his forehead though he shivered with cold and his heart raced.

'Harry?' Ginny called. 'Harry? You all right?'

'No air,' Harry gasped before fainting.

When he woke up he was on the floor, Ginny, Ron and the twins were all kneeling above him wearing similar frowns of worry. Harry smiled and tried to sit up. The world swayed a little but it wasn't all that dangerous anymore. He just felt exhausted to the bone again, like when he had a nightmare.

'I'm fine now,' he said brightly. 'Nothing to worry about.'

'You sure? That was … frightening.' Ginny shivered. 'I think we should talk to Mum so that she can call Madame Pomfrey.'

A yell was heard through the floor and the twins cringed. They exchanged worried looks before smiling apologetically.

'Now's not the best time to speak with her, I guess,' Fred said.

'We so shouldn't have mixed that into the flour,' George added. 'I s'pose it's Diagon Alley tonight, then.'

'We'll just have to take the spare beds again, Anthony wont mind. It always lowers his rent.'

With two loud cracks they were gone, leaving Harry and the two Weasleys to deal with the completely furious Mrs Weasley.

* * *

The next few days passed by in a blur. The mornings became harder for Harry, he didn't want to rise and it often took a long time for him to do something simple. The nightmares increased, leaving Charlie to wake him up every other hour. He didn't want to sleep but was constantly too tired to do else wise.

'Your turn.'

Harry's head snatched up and he stared at Ron like he'd have said Professor McGonagall sprouted feathers last night. They were playing cards in Ron's room and Harry had been about to win. That was to say, last time he actually paid attention. Now he had a hand with completely useless cards and the Queen of Spades was making obscene gestures.

'I give up,' Harry sighed. 'I've got a headache.'

'You sure you're all right, Harry?' Ron asked. 'You seem … distant.'

'I dunno. I just … I'm just very tired all the time. Must be the nightmares.'

Ron looked doubtful and Harry sighed again. He did feel distant, but he couldn't bare himself to talk about it. It was as if the words got stuck somewhere inside. He'd spoken a little with Charlie after some of the nightmares, but that was barely anything at all. Harry could feel everyone walking on his or her toes round him and it annoyed him. He was tired, not made of glass for heavens sake.

'Hello? Harry?'

Ron was waving his hand in front of Harry's face and Harry frowned.

'I said you probably need to pack,' Ron explained

'Pack?'

'Yes, Mum told us at breakfast that we're moving to Grimmuald Place tomorrow. It's only for the weekend.'

'Right,' Harry mumbled.

He could remember that Mrs Weasley had indeed said something among the lines, but hadn't really been listening. To think of Grimmuald Place hurt and he shook his head clear of the thoughts. Ron frowned again before he abruptly stood and glared at Harry. Right then Ginny walked into the room.

'Why are you shaking your head?' she asked.

'Uh – thinking,' Harry answered quickly. 'What were you saying?'

'Mum wants us to come downstairs and help her find all the joke food that the twins've hidden.'

'Mum's off her nut,' said Ron, rolling his eyes. 'That'd take ages.'

'Ron, get off it.' Ginny scowled. 'Mum's not nuts!'

At that Ron stiffened before grabbing his Self-Shuffling playing cards. Another moment and he threw them across the room, staring at Harry.

'I've had it,' Ron snapped. 'I know you've had a tough time, Harry, and so have we, but this is ridiculous. It takes ages to make you even look at one of us and –'

'Ron,' Ginny tried.

'Shut up, Ginny. You know what I mean, you're not stupid. Everything's a mess round here! Mum's of her nut because Dad's barely ever at home, that goes for Bill too, Charlie's gay, Percy's gone, the twins play more stupid jokes than ever, I'll probably not make any OWL:s and you – you're – whatever! Then Harry's not feeling well, he wakes us up all the time during nights and he wont talk to anyone. I'm sorry, I've had it. Get out!'

Harry found himself outside the room along with Ginny, both of them feeling rather stunned. This wasn't Ron's normal behaviour, not in the least. Harry looked at Ginny, who was staring wide-eyed at the door. Then the stairs begun creaking and in a Harry saw Molly coming up, levitating a trey filled with steaming food. She smiled at them, wrinkles showing in the corners of her eyes and a tired air around her. Harry automatically took the trey when it floated past him.

'Why are you lot standing here?' Mrs Weasley asked. 'The kitchen's a mess, so I thought I'd bring your dinner up here instead. You can help me after you've eaten.'

'Thanks, Mum. Ron's just tried, so he went to sleep,' said Ginny quickly. 'We'll eat in my room.'

'He's had an awful lot of trouble sleeping this summer, he too. Poor Ronnie,' Molly sighed. 'All right, dears, but you need to pack your things tonight. We're moving you to Grimmuald Place.'

Harry and Ginny ate in Ginny's room before helping Mrs Weasley with the kitchen. It sure was a mess, flour covering the wall. Mrs Weasley handed them mops while she'd try make the stains go away with her wand. They didn't.   
It was much, much later that night when Harry got to pack his things. It had been a long day and he felt tired when he kneeled next to his trunk and begun packing the stuff he needed in a rucksack. He didn't even notice falling asleep over the trunk. 

_The world was spinning; Harry felt a dizzy feeling that begun from somewhere inside. There was joy, he was laughing. Someone lay writhing in pain on the ground before him, the air filled with screams. Bones cracked, the man bleed from his nose and Harry laughed harder._

'_Ah, how wonderful,' he said and the man quitted screaming. 'I think that will teach you to not disobey me'_

_The man coughed, laying limp on the ground. Harry kicked his stomach and the man howled in pain again. When he looked up Harry recognized him as Johan Jesterweb, the missing tourist guide._

'_Oh, what a beautiful music,' sighed Harry. 'I could do with a symphony of that. Now you're going to explain to me why you told Fudge to resign and how we now are going to get hold of the Dragon's Secret. It better be a good explanation.'_

'_I thought,' the man coughed. '... Could use Umbridge... don't...' _

_Voldemort kicked him again. '_Crucio_', he hissed and John screamed again._

'Wake up, Harry!' Charlie's voice came through the mist of dreams. 'Come on, wake up!'

Harry sat up with a snatch, breathing heavily. He could still hear the echo of Voldemort's laughter in his ears but now he was overwhelmed with the pain in his scar.

'Voldemort,' he tried to say but it sounded more like a harsh whisper. 'Torture. Get Dumbledore.'

And then there was blissful darkness.

* * *

'I'm sure he'll be all right, Molly.'

The voice drifted through that darkness and light stung his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Harry opened his eyes and looked up at two worried faces. Dumbledore smiled gently, his half-moon spectacles almost falling off his nose. Mrs Weasley sighed and promptly sat down on the other bed.

'Harry?' he heard Dumbledore ask. 'How are you feeling?'

As he turned towards the old Professor he had to blink. There was a noise annoying him. The old man smiled gently at him, his eyes twinkling behind the half-moon spectacles.

'Professor,' said Harry. 'I'm all right.'

'Oh, fine, fine. Sherbet lemon?' The Headmaster held up a little metal box and Harry shook his head.

The room was small and dark, twin-bedded and had a high ceiling. He recognized it as his and Ron's room at Grimmuald Place. Mrs Weasley was pale and worry clutched to her features. He smiled at her and she looked relieved.

'I'll go get someone to bring you some lunch, dear. Ron and the others are in the kitchen.'

Mrs Weasley then left the room, leaving Harry with Dumbledore, who was smiling at him. Harry sat back and drew breath when the Headmaster held up his hand.

'Before you ask any questions I must ask you one.' Harry nodded in response. 'What exactly did you dream?'

'Voldemort,' Harry said shakily. 'He was torturing John Jesterweb. Said it hadn't been a part of the plan to get Fudge to resign.'

'Ah,' the Headmaster said. 'Anything else?'

'I think that he'd been torturing the man for very long before I fell asleep, sir. They spoke something about the Dragon's Secret, it sounded important.'

'My, so he does know then,' Dumbledore said and looked thoughtful.

'Sir,' Harry asked carefully. 'Know what?'

'The Order is trying something, Harry and Voldemort might just have figured out what. I do believe that your friends will be up here soon and I'll have to leave myself. Was there anything else? Any questions, perhaps?'

'No, sir,' said Harry, not bothering to ask the questions that Ron would be glad to answer.

There was a sudden knock on the door and Charlie stuck his red haired head in. Dumbledore smiled and raised, a gentle twinkle in his eyes.

'I think your lunch is coming as soon as Fred and George can stop levitating it around,' Charlie said. 'Ron is trying to catch it, so if you're lucky you'll get half of it.'

'Unfortunately, I must leave,' said Dumbledore. 'Maybe you can keep Harry a little company until his lunch has quitted flying, Charlie?'

'Sure,' said Charlie and sat down on the bed in front of Harry.

Harry sighed and slumped back, not in the mood of talking. Dumbledore left and Charlie sat there until the twins did get the dinner to float neatly through the door and spill right on Harry's lap. Then Harry couldn't do anything but laugh.

It sort of went downhill from there. They were moved to Grimmuald Place for the rest of the week, but instead of taking Harry's mind off things, the place didn't make him feel better. It was dark and quiet and mournful. Everything above the second landing was forbidden area for Harry and the rest of them, so there was nothing to do.

The next day Harry didn't find the strength to rise out of bed. He barely responded to people that were talking to him. Madame Pomfrey came by the same day but she refused to do else than giving him a Strengthening Draught, saying that she wouldn't mess with the mind if it weren't absolutely necessary.

Ron apologized and tried to get Harry out of bed while Ginny and Mrs Weasley begged him to eat. He didn't look at them and spent most of the time either sleeping or staring into thin air. Energy left him every time he breathed out.

He'd have nightmares when he slept and it ended with Ron switching places with Charlie, who had to wake him up and hold him. Harry didn't notice how Charlie grew paler and thinner along with him. He didn't see how Mrs Weasley would look like she'd been crying. Harry didn't even catch Ron's worried face whenever his best friend would come and see him.

Now and then Ron would come into the room, sitting down on Charlie's bed to tell him what was going on. Somewhere inside Harry knew that he was causing the Weasleys harm by not reacting, but he couldn't find the strength to move or speak. The twins also sneaked in sometimes to tell him about their latest pranks and try cheer him up by demonstrating different joke-articles.

The room was quiet and closed, curtains closed to avoid the sunshine. After five days of apathy, there was a soft knock on the door that Harry didn't respond to. Albus Dumbledore stepped in, his long white beard tucked in beneath his belt. He wore dark blue robes and a pointed hat.

'Good day Charlie,' he said. 'You wouldn't mind bringing us some tea?'

Charlie nodded and left the room, leaving the old Headmaster to sit on a chair in front of Harry. Dumbledore's usually twinkling eyes were filled with sadness when he watched the boy that lay on the bed over his half-moon spectacles. Harry's hair was tousled, his body thinner than ever before and green eyes lifeless. He was sweaty but shivering.

'Harry,' the Headmaster said slowly. 'You're hurting.'

Harry didn't move, didn't blink. He showed no signs of even knowing that the Professor was there but kept staring at the invisible point somewhere to the left of Dumbledore's shoulder.

'I know you are hurting, Harry,' Dumbledore repeated. 'You wouldn't mind me letting some light in, would you? I can barely see you.'

Though Harry showed no sign of responding, Dumbledore stood and pulled the curtains apart. Harry simply closed his eyes against the light.

'There, that's much better, don't you think? I've always liked light when I've been in pain.'

At this Harry's eyes flew open for a second, but soon closed again. Dumbledore sighed, the sadness in his eyes ever greater.

'I told you at the end of last term that a part of being a human is that we know pain. We grief. I can see you are grieving, Harry, but I wonder why you wont let us grieve with you.'

There was silence for a while.

'Do you think that grieving is something for you to carry alone? It is not, Harry. You are not the only one that grieves Sirius,' – Harry flinched slightly – 'and though you were the closest to him, we miss him as well. What's special with you, Harry, is that you hurt so much that you are draining.'

Harry's eyes flew open again, his lifeless eyes now watching the Headmaster.

'You are draining yourself of all your magic – and more important – all life. If this carries on, eventually you will have drained your self too much and then you will die. The simple thing that you have been surrounded by people that loves you will keep you alive for yet a while, but not forever.'

Right then, Charlie came back into the room and Harry closed his eyes again. He heard the Headmaster and Charlie talk over the tea, Charlie ever poured him some, but couldn't find any strength to reply to what Dumbledore had said.

The Headmaster was right, Harry was draining himself. He felt his life leave him, like cold water dripping of his fingers. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? To lie down and sleep, sleep forever. To meet Sirius, Credic and his parents somewhere, past that thin line between life and death.

Pictures whirled through his mind; Ron laughing; Cerdric's dead eyes; Hermione fussing over homework; Voldemort laughing; the twins sniggering; his cupboard; Ginny on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets; Cho Chang diving for the Snitch; Sirius' falling through the veil; Voldemort laughing again.

They overwhelmed him and he opened his eyes to see Dumbledore watching him. He was standing at the door, holding it open. A moment passed and then Dumbledore left.

Later that night when Charlie slept, Harry rose on trembling feet and stared at the window. His reflection stared back at him and he saw how his lifeless eyes slowly turned into steel. He closed them and focused on the feeling of draining. It was sort of as if his wrist would be sliced open, yet not. The face of Bellatrix Lestrange was laughing at him somewhere inside his mind and he pictured how he'd hit her.

It filled him with a strange sort of relief, though his anger was building. The draining had stopped and his heart beat harder and harder as he thought of revenge. When he opened his eyes again they were no longer lifeless but a thin glass between his anger and the world.

The next day he appeared at breakfast, to the joy of Mrs Weasley, but he had once again changed. Changes were becoming a second nature for him. He coated himself in his steeled anger, hid the hollowness inside and acted as normally as he could.

* * *

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	4. The Black Letter

* * *

**The Black Letter **

The day that Harry decided to appear at the breakfast table was a Friday. Not that it had anything to do with it, but Harry spent that Friday catching up on all the information that he'd missed. He sat with Ron and Ginny, playing cards in the dark and high-ceilinged room. The house was awfully quiet, not even the portrait of Mrs Black made some noise.

'So the Ministry isn't really doing anything?' Harry asked and passed a card to Ron.

'They're handing out leaflets,' said Ron. 'Who taught the Knight of Spades to curse?'

'Not me,' said Ginny. 'Besides, the leaflets are only handed out to wizarding families.'

'Dad reckons there's nothing useful in those leaflets anyhow. Don't do that!' Ron glared at his cards. 'I'm gonna blame George for this.'

'Figures,' Ginny mumbled. 'Wonder who wrote them?'

'Fudge?' Harry guessed.

'No, Fudge took a week off. Fred says his office door hasn't been opened for three weeks, though.'

'Fred?' Ginny frowned, passing Harry a useless card.

'Well, I dunno.' Ron shrugged. 'Something about Lee again. Open cards.'

They let the cards fall down on the bed and Ron smiled gleefully. His cards did some sort of a happy-dance before all cards gathered and shuffled themselves. Sixteen cards then dropped neatly in three piles.

'Lee works for the Ministry?' asked Harry, staring at his cards.

'Occasionally. Bagman's left quite a mess at the Magical Games and Sports Office, they haven't been able to clear it up yet.' Ginny passed Harry another useless card. 'You know he disappeared after the Triwizard Tournament. Haven't been heard of since. Fred and George are still looking for him, as are the goblins.'

'There seems to be a lot of people disappearing,' Harry commented. 'Quit telling the Spades to convert my Diamonds, someone.'

'Sorry,' Ron mumbled, not looking sorry at all. 'Yeah. I've noticed.'

'You have?' Ginny stared at him. 'Ickle Ronnikin! Paid attention, did you?'

'Shut it. D'you know what the weirdest thing is?'

'Apart from all Clubs refusing to be near any Diamonds?' asked Ginny, rearranging her cards.

Ron ignored her. 'They've never said any names when talking about the missing tourists.'

'Never? If Fudge would disappear, wouldn't that hit the headlines?'

Harry shuffled three Clubs to Ginny who glared at him.

'You'd think so. But you never know, the _Prophet_'s been really odd lately. Barley mentioned the Quidditch scandal at all.'

'That's a scandal in it self!' said Ron

It didn't take long for Ron to win that round too, as well as the following two. Harry and Ginny decided to call it a day when Mrs Weasley appeared at the door, suggesting they'd come downstairs for tea. The stairs creaked a little bit and the hallway with the house-elf head's was dark and empty. Walking on their toes they carefully skirted the troll-leg umbrella stand that somehow had avoided Mrs Weasley's attempts of cleaning the place up. Sounds of Mrs Black's portrait snoring followed them to the kitchen.

There they found Mad-Eye studying the _Prophet_ with one eye and poking the other one under the surface of a glass of water. Remus Lupin was waving his wand over a pair of shabby robes, apparently patching them up a bit. His hair was a bit shorter and a little greyer, but when he turned he was smiling at them. It was a tired and half-hollow smile, though he did seem pleased to meet them.

'Hello, Harry!' he greeted. 'How are you?'

'Fine, thanks,' Harry said and sat down next to Ginny.

'Could I get a cup too, Molly?' Lupin asked and sat down on the other side. 'It's been quite a day.'

'One for me too,' said Moody and folded the paper.

'Quite a day?' Ginny echoed. 'What have you done?'

'Order business, Ginny.' Mrs Weasley levitated six cups, teapot and a plate with sandwiches to the table.

'Have you gotten your OWL results yet?' Mad-Eye asked.

'Not yet,' said Ron grimly. 'Bet I failed all of them.'

'Oh, no, you didn't,' his mother said, patting his head and earning herself a glare. 'You can't have done worse then Fred and George. Three OWL's, now, really.'

'Thanks, Mum, that made our day,' said one of the twins, appearing at the kitchen door with his brother in his heel.

'D'you want a cup of tea, dear?' She rose and got two cups from a cupboard.

'Sure.' Fred sat down and handed Harry a letter. 'Hedwig came with this. I'm sorry we had to borrow your owl, but she'll be back soon.'

Harry realized he missed Hedwig, but said nothing and took the letter. It was a black envelope with the address written in gold.

_Harry Potter  
__Place Uplottable  
__England_

Ron and Ginny stared at it, then looked at their mother. She'd gone pale and so had Lupin and Moody. The twins avoided looking at him at all. Harry turned the envelope and opened it carefully. The parchment inside was midnight blue and the message written with silvery ink. He read it in silence.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_We offer our condolences for the death of Sirius Black. It is with most respect for your loss that we send you this letter. Mr Black was the sole heir of the Black fortune. He has requested the following to be given to you:_

_- The state of 12 Grimmuald Place, _

_- A flying motorbike (registration at the Office of Flying Muggle Artefacts will be needed), _

_- A lifetime of free haircuts at Scissors and Shears, found at 19 Diagon Alley, London._

_Mr Black left a spoken will that you may find at the Last Will Office, door 5, Corridor fourteen, Level one, Ministry of Magic. Since you are not of age, we request at least two adults following you. _

_With deepest concern,  
__Yours Sincerely,  
__Aedon Evrett  
__Head of the Deceased's Office  
__Ministry of Magic_

Harry stared at the parchment. Suddenly something hit his back and he gasped, realizing he'd been holding his breath. His eyes stung and he forced himself to push back the tears that threatened to take over. It really wasn't the moment to panic.

'Harry?' he heard someone say and turned his head towards Lupin. 'Are you all right?'

He managed to nod before Mrs Weasley pushed a glass of water in his hand. Harry drank thankfully. Ron and Ginny were both frowning worriedly, looking like their mother for all that was worth. The twins studied him carefully along with Lupin.

'What's the Last Will Office?' Harry asked once he had regained control again.

'That's where they ask people to go if the deceased has left a magical will. Not all do, but some of the old wizarding families find that as a tradition,' said Lupin. 'How come?'

'It says,' Harry nodded towards the letter that he had placed upside down on the table, 'that Sirius left a will.'

'Really?' Lupin looked surprised. 'Well, it seems as if he had some manners left.'

Harry smiled plainly.

'I have to bring at least two adults with me to hear it,' he said. 'Would you come with me?'

'Of course I would,' said Lupin. 'A Last Will can be quite upsetting. Who else?'

Harry watched the people around the table. Mrs Weasley was looking quite nervous, drying her hands on her apron repeatedly. Ron had returned to silently chewing his sandwich and Ginny watched him carefully from beneath the loose tufts of hair. Fred studied his sandwich intensely and George held his teacup without drinking from it, blowing it gently. Moody was poking his magical eye in a glass of water.

'Fred, George, would you come?' he said at last.

Mrs Weasley's eyebrows shot up, but she quickly hid her surprise. George, who had just been about to sip the tea, burned his tongue. He stared at Harry like Harry had gone mad, which wasn't very far from how Harry suddenly felt.

Then there was a _thud_ and Mrs Black woke up.

'FILTHY MUDBLOODS! TRAITORS! TRAITORS IN MY HOUSE! OOOOOOOOUT! KREATCHER! KREATCHER! GET OUT YOU, DISGUSTING, SLIMY MUDBLOOD! I SWEAR –'

'Oh no,' sighed Lupin and hurried out with Moody right behind him.

Harry wasn't late to follow. Outside the kitchen he found that a thin lady had stumbled on the troll-leg umbrella stand. Mrs Weasley hurried past him and tried to help the woman up.

'SHUT UP!' Moody roared to the portrait before he and Lupin managed to pull the curtains shut.

'Are you all right?' Mrs Weasley asked quietly.

'Me eers migh've given up,' muttered the woman that Harry now recognized as Dawn Atkinson. 'A'm tryin' ter find Charlie, it's gettin' outta 'and.'

They returned to the kitchen and shut the door behind them.

'What is?' asked Ron from behind Harry.

'Not your business, Ronald!' snapped Mrs Weasley. 'Take Harry and Ginny and return to your room. You better pack, we're moving you and Ginny back to Spinners End.'

'Why not Harry?'

'Fly him across the country for two days?' George asked. 'You gone mad?'

'Off you go and do be quiet in the hall,' said Mrs Weasley.

* * *

Ron and Ginny returned to the Spinners End the next day and Harry had to spend the rest of the weekend alone. So came the day that Harry had been dreading, yet looking forward to. He hadn't been able to sleep that night, sitting in his bed and staring at the wall. George who gave him a cup of tea and a piece of toast woke him up around eight. His eyes ached and he felt slightly ill. 

Once again he came into the Ministry by the falling telephone box. Harry screwed his eyes shut, thinking very hard on anything but Sirius, like Hagrid's bakery. He didn't want to do that trip, but he did want to reach the Last Will Office and this was the only safe way. Having had their wands already checked, they headed for the golden doors leading to the lifts. Harry's head was spinning and he thought that both Remus and Fred talked to someone, but he wasn't sure whom. Finally they reached the first floor, finally they found the fourteenth corridor and finally, finally, they stood outside door 5. It was a small oak door where you could read _The Last Will Office_ written with small, silvery letters.

'You ready?' George asked.

Harry nodded sternly and they walked in. Inside was a room with three desks. There lay an air of peace and quiet. A wizard dressed in robes in the same midnight blue colour that the parchment had had, rose. His hair was braded into two brides and he had long, black beard.

'Remus!' he said, voice low but clear. 'How good to see you again. Though not on this place, no. Who –?'

'It's not me this time, Marshall.' Lupin nodded against Harry. 'I'm just here as an adult.'

'And you would be?' Marshall peered at Harry.

'Harry Potter, sir,' Harry responded. 'The will of Sirius Black.'

Marshall's eyes widened when he saw Harry's scar and then narrowed at the name. He turned abruptly, picked up a leaflet from his desk and motioned for them to step further in, through another door. The room within had four armchairs and a sofa in that same midnight blue colour. The two windows let in glints of sunlight. It was really a peaceful place, not at all as Harry had imagined it. He sat down next to George on the sofa.

'I am going to open this letter,' said Marshall and showed Harry the leaflet that Harry now realized was a very thin envelope. 'You will then hear the voice of Sirius Black, as he spoke the words to the letter.'

Harry swallowed and nodded. Marshall opened the envelope and they heard someone sigh heavily. The envelope hovered in the air the same way as a hover did, but it seemed less threatening.

'Date: Seventeenth of August,' said Sirius voice. 'Place: Azkaban. Attending: Sirius Black, Minerva McGonagall … and Severus Snape. Supervisor: Marshall McGonagall.'

Harry frowned, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. It was Sirius' voice, undeniably his voice, yet it was the voice of a stranger. Sirius sounded much younger even though he spoke with the voice of someone that had given up hope.

'Errand,' said Sirius, 'Last Will. Message: To Harry Potter I leave my family house, may it forever be cursed, number 12 Grimmuald Place. Also, I leave my flying motorbike for you to haunt Severus Snape with when I'm gone. Do be quiet, Severus. Harry, if your hair reminds anything of James', or Merlin forbid, Snape's, I here by give you a lifetime of hair cuts at the Scissors and Shears in Diagon Alley.'

Lupin snorted, though his eyes were also filled with tears. Harry smiled sadly and looked at Fred who nodded. The letter-voice cleared it's throat.

'To Remus Lupin,' Lupin looked shocked, 'I leave a small fortune of three hundred and sixty-two galleons. I also give him the two thousand or so books that are currently stacked in not-so-neat piles at the cottage that I also give him. The address would be western St Martin's, Isles of Scilly. Good luck opening the door. Don't look at me like that, Snivellus, I've told you I'm not poor! Sorry, Professor.'

George sniggered slightly. But what the letter said next made him bite his tongue.

'To be shared by any living Weasley, descendent of Arthur and Molly Weasley, I here by leave the rest of my fortune, which would be a feather-duster, two thousand galleons, a piece of dry bread, eighty-two sickles, seventeen house-elf heads in need of dusting, fourteen knuts. And for Arthur and Molly, if they still are alive, a little house on some godforsaken mountain in Italy. Prof- Minerva, could you make Severus stop chewing foam?'

'As an ad, I'll leave Severus Snape the slimy, unhealthy looking potions chamber in the basement of 12 Grimmuald Place and all the yet slimier and unhealthier potions ingredients in the three storerooms. Sorry, Harry. Now, play good witnesses.'

'I, Professor Minerva McGonagall,' said Professor McGonagall, 'here by state that this Last Will was spoken by Sirius Black, the sole heir of the Black fortune and that no threats was used.'

'I, Severus Snape,' sneered the young voice of Snape, 'there by state that this Last Will was spoken by Sirius Black, sole heir of the Black fortune and that no threats was used.'

With that, the letter fell silent, returning into being a thin letter in the hands of a dark haired wizard with two brides and black beard, sitting in the midnight blue chair with matching robes. George and Fred were ogling each other and their mouths moved like goldfishes. Harry had to focus hard on the picture of him hitting Bellatrix Lestrange to not cry. Remus Lupin did cry.

* * *

That Saturday evening they returned to the Spinners End. Ron moved into the same room as Harry, since Charlie was now living with Bill somewhere near Diagon Alley. Harry hadn't heard much from Bill, not recently. Mrs Weasley had mumbled something about marriage before moving in together. After what Harry could understand, Bill and Mrs Weasley had had a fall out. Fred and George spent most of their days in Diagon Alley, where the Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes had become a huge success. They hadn't mentioned Sirius' will to anyone yet. 

'Harry, come on, Ron wants you out in the garden right the way.'

Ginny was standing just outside the backdoor and she was covered in mud. They had been digging in the backyard for a couple of hours now, taking up potatoes, cabbages, carrots and other things. Mrs Weasley was delighted to have a gnome-free garden, which had resulted in a neat garden. The gardens had also shown up to be the best spot to chare information on, as well as sometimes listen through the kitchen window.

Ron was standing in a very muddy row of cabbages, swearing under his breath. He had mud all the way up to his elbows and a stain on his forehead where he obviously had tried to wipe away some of the rain. It had rained heavily all night, but Mrs Weasley had forced the kids out the house by mentioning that it didn't rain back then. Five minutes later, the rain fell softly on the three youngsters in the garden.

'Did you see the _Prophet_?' Harry asked, grabbing a shovel.

'Yeah,' said Ron, throwing away another cabbage with a disgusted face. 'The Ministry's pretty much without guidance, now that they've noticed Fudge disappeared. There's an awful lot of rumours going round.'

'I think that one of them says Fudge's children are all Death Eaters,' said Ginny frowning.

'That could be true,' Harry muttered, 'if he had any children.'

'There's other stories,' said Ron, 'like the one that Dad's gonna be the Minister of Magic, and the one that Umbridge's competing to for the post.'

They all shuddered by the thought of the former High Inquisitor. Dolores Umbridge had been a total disaster at Hogwarts the year before. Fudge had sent her there to spy for him, because he had apparently the impression that Dumbledore was raising an army to put him off his throne.

'How's the old toad anyway?' asked Harry. 'Haven't heard anything since Peeves hunted her.'

'She's been at St Mungo's the whole summer,' answered Ginny. 'But Fred says Lee saw her at the Ministry last week, so I think she's out now. She was doing quite well after the centaur attack, but something happened and she went all paranoid and had a breakdown. _Daily Prophet_'s been thrilled. Ron, don't throw those carrots in there, that one's for cabbages.'

'Can't we take a break?' Ron whined. 'I'm tired of cabbages!'

'Awe, ickle Ronniekin's tired of cabbages,' Ginny teased.

'But my back aches...' complained Ron.

Mud hit Ron's back and Ginny sniggered. With a yelp Ron threw himself at his little sister and tried to get mud inside her sweater. Ginny fought herself free and hid behind a box of carrots. From there she began shooting mud at the two boys. Harry dodged Ginny's attack and sent some mud after Ron, who jumped behind a tree. Ginny hit Harry on his back and he returned the favour before throwing himself behind the bench. When Harry spurted from the wooden box and fell headlong down behind a bush, he heard two cracks.

'Hey! You can't have a proper mud-war without us!' called Fred.

'Unfair!' echoed George.

Three loud _splashes_ and two yells were heard as Harry, Ginny and Ron threw mud on the twins. Soon the garden was filled with laughs and shrikes from the five of them.

* * *

A large barn owl landed next to Harry when he was wiping away mud from his eyes. Soon another one came and landed next to Ron's hideout. The two boys glanced at each other and gulped, quickly calling a truce. These were the letters they had been waiting for the whole summer – their OWL's. They gathered around the boxes with vegetables and stared at each other. Ginny clutched Fred's arm and Ron was utterly pale behind the mud and freckles. Harry felt himself tremble. 

'You open your first,' said Ron nervously. 'That's probably better news than mine.'

Harry just nodded and bent down to take the letter from his owl. As he stood, the owl took off and flew towards the clear blue sky. Harry gave Ron another glance and then opened the letter. Something fell out, but he didn't take notice and read the letter aloud.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_I hope that this letter finds you in good health and that you have had a good summer. Finally, it's an honour for me to tell you the results from the Ordinary Wizarding Level exam! The results are counted from both your theory and your practical work. I remind you that your grades cannot be changed or complained about. They are as follow:_

_Astronomy: Acceptable (During the circumstances)  
__Care of Magical Creatures: Exceed Expectations  
__Charms: Exceed Expectations  
__Defence Against The Dark Arts: Outstanding  
__Divination: Dreadful  
__Herbology: Acceptable  
__History of Magic: Acceptable (On the part you finished)  
__Potions: Outstanding  
__Transfiguration: Exceed Expectations_

_Please note that your OWL number should be counted from Acceptable and above. I look forward to meet you again for your NEWT's exam next year._

_Enjoy your vacation,  
__Sincerely,  
__Griselda Marchbanks,  
__Head of Wizarding Examinations Authority  
Ministry of Magic_

Ginny had picked up the note that fell out of the letter and gave it to Harry who stared at her in wide eyed shock. He then took the note and glanced at it.

_Mr Potter,_

_I will keep my promise._

There was no sign, but Harry knew this note to be sent from Minerva McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor. She had made a promise to make sure he became an Auror, no matter what.

'I made it!' Harry whispered when it finally sunk in. 'I made it into potions! Open yours, Ron!'

Ron's hands shook even more than Harry's when he opened the letter and read it silently. A beam spread across his face and he thrust the letter into Harry's hand. Ron had managed four Acceptables and three Exceed Expectations. Ron looked ready to explode.

'What _are _you lot doing?' came Mrs Weasley's stern voice and they quickly turned.

Harry now remembered that they were all completely covered in mud. The twins' freckles were grey and both they, Ron and Ginny looked more like huge mud piles with arms and feet than their usual selves. As Harry glanced down, he quickly counted in himself in the Society of Living Under Mud. They grinned at Mrs Weasley, who was mildly amused.

'The OWLs came,' said Fred and tried to brush off the mud. It didn't work very well.

'How wonderful! Scoot off to change clothes before you catch a cold and then come down to tell me,' said Mrs Weasley, now beaming.

They climbed the stairs and begun changing clothes. Harry was so deep in thought that he didn't hear Ron's question at first. When Ron poked him he jumped so high that he startled Pig, who got stuck inside a turtleneck sweater and they had to help him out. The owl didn't help; he kept on hooting and flying around inside the sweater.

'Did you see the letter?' panted Ron when they finally got the small owl out.

'Yeah,' said Harry, who tried to figure out which was the collar from inside Dudley's old T-shirt.

'You'll have to become an Auror on your own,' Ron said darkly. 'I'll probably go into Divination, need no grades to do that. I could ask Trelawny for help, you know, though I'd probably tell you I saw in the cards that you're secretly gay and got a crush on Malfoy. Come on, I'm starving.'

They headed for the kitchen and found Mrs Weasley staring at Ron's OWL's. Her hands shook. Fred and George were busy at the stove, making tea and picking out cups from the cupboards. With a little magical help of course.

'Five OWL's, Ronnie!' she shrieked when they stepped in. 'I told you you'd do better then the twins.'

'Thanks again, Mum,' said George and blinked to Harry when he poured something pink into his mother's teacup.

'I wont make it to an Auror,' said Ron darkly and sat down. 'I didn't get any O's.'

Harry sat down in front of Ron and watched how the twins made the teacups hurtle through the air. Mrs Weasley took hers out of the air and placed it on the table. She hadn't looked up from the letter once.

'Careful, Fred. But, Ronnie,' Mrs Weasley seemed to be out of words, 'if you begin Muggle Studies, you can work at the Ministry with your father!'

'No thanks,' Ron mumbled. 'I'll go into divination, I think.'

'What?' Mrs Weasley's eyes snapped from the letter to Ron and then back to the letter. 'But –'

'Joking, Mum, I'm lousy at divination. See for yourself.' He nodded at the paper. ' I'd probably tell you that we'll inherit several thousand galleons within the next month.'

Harry choked his tea and as did the twins. Fred swallowed hard, glancing at George. Ginny appeared at the door, frowning at the scenery. Her hair was completely wet, reaching down her back to her waist.

'What?' Ron stared at them. 'Did we –'

'It seems like Sirius left the children of Arthur and Molly Weasley something,' began George. 'Like a feather duster –'

'Two thousand galleons –' said Fred.

'_What_?' Ron echoed his mother.

'A piece of dry bread,' Harry added.

'But –' said Ginny.

'Eighty-two sickles,' said Fred.

'Seventeen house-elf heads in need of dusting,' said George.

'Fourteen knuts,' said Fred.

Mrs Weasley stuttered.

'And for you and Dad a little house on some godforsaken mountain in Italy,' added Fred.ss

Mrs Weasley feinted.

* * *

**As for my stories**: My longtime pride, _The Secrets of Dragons_, is currently on hold. In fact, so is _Touch and Go_ too. I quit writing in the begining of June 2005 when my father suddenly died in a heartattack at the age of 46 and I have not yet found the inspiration to continue. I will though, because I love the Potterverse and I love playing in it. Both stories are unfortunately inchohorent and OOC and AU, which means that when I do return to writing, they will be rewritten.

Thank you for all your support and prayers due to the loss of my father,  
- Sanna-Terocia.


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